History Has A Habit Of Repeating Itself
by Karliah357
Summary: What will become of the immortal Germany when he falls madly in love with a very human woman bound by fate? "I don't care! I don't care if you get older, and I want to hold your hand in mine when you draw your last breath. I don't want to look back and wonder what it might have been like! I would rather have you and lose you to death than watch you walk out this door!" GermanyxOC
1. Confusion In France

Belle looked down at her map book, flipping through a few more pages before sighing exasperatedly and shoving it back into the pocket of her coat.

This was just her luck. She had finally graduated with a degree in architecture and history, saved up enough money to go on a tour of Western Europe, and she ended up on the wrong plane. She was in France, but not in Paris where she was heading. In fact, she had absolutely no idea where she was, couldn't find an appropriate map without the city name, and it was late in the afternoon so the streets were fairly empty. If only she had paid more attention when she exited the airport instead of running around excitedly...at least then she could have found her way back and arranged another flight…

Sighing into the chilly air she tightened the straps on her backpack and grabbed her suitcase, rolling it behind her as she searched for a district teeming with more life. Before long she located a street lined with restaurants and bars.

Passing a group of woman she called after them.

"Excuse me!"

They didn't seem to hear, happily entering a bar across the street. She tried again with a man smoking on a street corner.

"Excuse me sir? Do you speak English?"

He looked at her in confusion and said something in French. With a sigh she apologized for bothering him and began walking further down the street.

She started across a large street and stopped, her head snapping around to look at a gorgeous mansion at the end of the long road. Mentally debating on whether finding an English speaker was more important than investigating the lavish 1800's style mansion in the distance she heard a car honk beside her, startling her out of the street. The driver yelled something at her that was probably an explicative as she decided the building needed to be seen and wandered down the road towards it.

It was much later by the time she reached the mansion. A beautiful garden and high, white elegant walls set behind a fountain greeting her, making her grin. She HAD to see the inside.

Approaching the door she knocked gently, hoping whoever lived in the beautiful piece of art would be ok with a foreigner asking for a tour. She doubted it, but her heart was too far into the commitment of taking in the whole thing for her to stop her knuckles from striking the thick wooden door.

A very official looking butler answered the door, beckoning her inside. She stepped through the doorway and looked around at the graceful carvings and Baroque period décor filling the entry way and sitting area. It seemed to flow seamlessly into modern technology, the more updated facilities and electronics crafted in such a way to melt into the style without breaking the wonderful air.

"It's incredible…could I speak with your-"

She turned to find the butler had vanished, leaving her alone in the large house.

"-employer?..."

She checked the nearby dinning and kitchen areas, only managing to find a few busy cooks she didn't want to bother. Her only other options were to go upstairs or try the next wing, and she figured walking through the lower portion of the house would be safest. It would look suspicious if she went upstairs but the butler could very well have been up there.

Walking through the halls she peaked in open doors, calling softly.

"Mr. Butler? Hello? Mr. Butler, you shouldn't leave a stranger in the entry like that…"

Rounding a corner she saw the butler enter through a large doorway and followed, calling after him.

"Sir, please wait-"

She took a couple steps into a huge ballroom of sorts and stopped dead in her tracks. Standing around a table of food and beverages were six of the most attractive men she had ever seen in her life. They ceased talking when she entered and she felt her face heat up in embarrassment as all eyes turned to her, her hand death gripping her suitcase handle as she stammered out an apology.

"I-I'm so sorry, I was lost and I saw this beautiful house and had to investigate but the butler left me in the entry and I was looking for him and…oh God…you probably don't speak English…"

She covered her face with her free hand, cursing her luck. Within seconds one of the men, the tall man with shoulder length wavy blonde hair and sparkling blue eyes, was before her. He seized her hand tenderly from her face, his own face uncomfortably close to hers. He laid a gentle kiss on her knuckles before looking up and smiling softly.

"I am afraid you are wrong, dear flower. I speak perfect English."

He practically purred, his voice flowing with a powerful French accent as he spoke. Belle let out a sigh of relief.

"I'm so glad! B-But I still feel bad for walking in on your…um…"

"It is but a simple get together, a casual party. I wanted to show my good friends my summer home, love."

He had a point. She realized all of them were dressed casually, most in t-shirts and jeans or slacks. Her eyes went back to the man in front of her and she realized his face was suddenly much, much closer. He smelled of roses and she could feel his breath caress her lips when he exhaled. The sudden proximity made her flinch back slightly, her face turning a dark shade of red.

"S-S-Sir?!"

"Yes, my dear?"

"Uh, er, you're…um…"

She fumbled for a way to tell him to back away without offending him. After all, he could help her.

"Move it! You're making her uncomfortable!"


	2. Motion Sickness

Another man, one with big sky-blue eyes to match his big mouth, shoved the Frenchman out of the way in such a cartoony fashion she could only stare gaping as he slid across the long wooden floor. She felt her backpack and purse slip from her shoulders as she continued to stand in utter shock.

"Hey! You're American, right?"

She numbly nodded at the man, watching as he pushed up his glasses and brushed back a lock of dirty-blonde hair.

"Cool! Party with us!"

He grabbed her hands, dancing around with her energetically. She stumbled along with him until a different hand stilled her. Looking over her shoulder she encountered a shorter man with emerald green eyes set under absurdly bushy eyebrows of a darker color than his fine, blonde hair.

"You said you were lost?"

He spoke to her in a British accent.

"Yes, I boarded the wrong plane it seems. I was headed to Paris and I can't find the airport again…"

"I see…I'll arrange a car to take you there."

"Thank you!"

"What is your name?"

"Belle De Leo."

She was suddenly spun around, her hands grasped by a shorter man and her fingers entwined with his. He had half lidded brown eyes and spoke in a voice that sounded like his head was in the clouds, his brown hair framing his very out-of-it face.

"Your name is Italian!"

He said in an aloof Italian accent.

"Yes, my father was an Italian immigrant."

He looked like he was about to say more, but everyone was distracted by the return of the Frenchman, who was squared up to the American angrily. An argument broke out, the loud man stepped back and accidently bumping into Belle, knocking her off balance.

She fell sideways, turning just in time to slam into another one of the shorter men. Looking up she realized she was heavily invading the raven haired, brown eyed man's space. His face had turned a brilliant shade of red and he was tense, stammering out a garbled mix of English and Japanese words in his embarrassment as she realized she was pressed flush against his chest with her own.

She shoved herself backwards, blurting out an apology in Japanese as she tripped over her own feet in her haste.

Her potential fall was halted easy by a big warm hand on her right shoulder, its twin grasping her left hand and turning her momentum into a broad chest to keep her from toppling to the floor. She looked up slowly, her eyes scanning past muscled shoulders to the face of the final man in the room. He had a serious face and icy blue eyes, his fine blonde hair combed back into a simple yet oddly formal style compared to the others.

"Have you regained your balance?"

He spoke with a much softer voice than she expected, the words reverberating in a deep bass and very profound German accent.

"Yes, thank you…"

He released her hand and shoulder and she took a step back to a normal social distance.

"What brings you here?"

"I was planning on taking a tour of Europe-"

Once again she was knocked slightly off balance, this time by the Frenchman who was caressing her cheek and saying something about showing her around that was drowned out by the Englishman's angry yelling. She suddenly found herself being pulled and spun between the Frenchman, American, and the Italian as they argued over who was going to accompany her on her tour. Her eyebrows knitted in confusion as to why these men were so strange…she took this trip to study firsthand.

After a particularly dizzying roundabout with the Italian singing "Italiano! Italiano!" she felt her head grow foggy from the constant movement, and promptly fainted right there.

England pitched forward, catching the girls shoulders just in time to keep her head from smacking into the unforgiving wood floor.

"Great, now look what you three did."

France huffed and America seemed confused.

"Someone is going to have to take care of her until she wakes up, this is ridiculous."

That sparked a whole new argument engrossing France, England, and America, who were now telling each other all the reasons they couldn't tend to the cute unconscious woman. Italy was standing watching the whole ordeal with his head cocked to the side, contemplating.

Germany and Japan looked at each other. Japan nodded and Germany sighed, walking over to scoop Belle up off of the floor. He picked her up easily, looking down at her as her head lulled against his shoulder.

She was petite, probably about Italy's height or a little shorter with a slender frame. She had long, cascading wavy brown hair, and although they were closed now he recalled the almost crystal blue eyes he been looking into only moments ago. They reminded him of stained glass.

No wonder the others were fighting so much. Especially France.

He turned and walked out the door with her, Japan grabbing her luggage as he followed close behind.


	3. A Change Of Plans

Belle stirred, sitting up slowly. She stiffened when she realized she was in someone's house, remembering the events that occurred before she had passed out.

She scanned the room and realized she was lying on a couch in a sitting area. The house was much simpler than the mansion she had been in previously, tidy yet homey. She sat up and looked into a kitchen area at the sound of footsteps.

The German man appeared, two mugs in his hands.

"Coffee?"

"Yes please. Thank you."

He sat the mug down in front of her, disappeared back into the kitchen and returned with a cream pitcher, a sugar bowl, and two freshly baked cakes. He sipped his coffee black as he watched her mix hers into something more cream than coffee. When she looked up at him he gestured to the slice of cake he had set in front of her.

She took a small bite of the dense cake, smiling broadly. "It's delicious! Did you make this?"

He didn't answer her verbally, but the slight blush that dusted his cheeks gave her the answer.

"What is it?"

"German apple cake."

"I like it."

They finished their slices and sat in awkward silence. Belle finally cleared her throat and spoke.

"So, you have a house in France? Are you a businessman? Or a diplomat?"

"I don't have a home in France."

"Then who-"

"We are in my home in Germany."

Belle chocked on her coffee, the beverage sputtering in her nostrils.

"H-How long was I out?!"

"A few hours."

"How did I get to Germany?!"

"I brought you here, since you were unconscious."

She looked at him in disbelief as he spoke bluntly to her. How had he managed to transport her from France to Germany so easily? Who was this man?

"Who…who are you?"

He stared at her for a moment.

"Germany."

"Wait…what?"

"I'm Germany."

She took a moment to wrap her mind around the fact that she was sitting the living room of and having coffee with one of the Countries.

"S-S-So those other guys were Countries too?!"

He nodded. When she didn't say anything he spoke.

"You were going to Paris?"

"Yes…"

"I'll have my driver take you to the airport when you are ready. Your luggage is there."

He gestured beside the couch where her things were. She sighed and reached into her jacket, feeling in an inner pocket. After a few moments of this she began panicking.

"It's gone!"

"What's gone?"

"My passport! It's gone!"

She tore her coat off, searching through it frantically. Then she searched her bags, finally hanging her head in defeat.

"I can't believe it…I guess I need to go to the Embassy…or wherever…"

Her shoulders drooped, her face twisted into an expression of self-directed anger and disbelief. Germany watched her for a moment.

"I'll arrange-"

She looked up at him almost pouty, her full bottom lip sticking out slightly and her eyes filled with sadness. The face was obviously unintentional; she was genuinely upset with herself. Germany felt his face heat up and his words falter awkwardly, his mouth forming sentences before his mind could process what they were.

"I'll take you on your tour; you won't need a passport with me."

They both looked equally surprised at the statement and he wondered idly what had made him say that. After all, he could have just contacted a few people and had her passport replaced. The foreign woman made his head cloudy.

"R-Really? Is that ok? I mean, I don't want to inconvenience you…You're a Country, don't you have responsibilities to attend to?"

He did, but right now the world was fairly quiet. Germany wasn't having any major problems, and in truth he hadn't had anything to do in weeks. He hadn't heard from his boss in a while either.

That and he had just made an offer. It would be rude and against his moral rules to deny her the opportunity now.

"It's fine. We can leave now if you want; it's very early in the morning."

Belle's eyes lit up and she nodded, trying to contain her excitement. She waited while Germany retrieved a small shoulder bag, grabbing her things as they headed out the door.


	4. Finally In Paris

They had been wandering around Paris for most of the day. Belle seemed to have a good idea of where she was going, dragging Germany to historical building after historical building. Every time she found one she particularly liked (which was most of them) she would take pictures and write notes in a notebook she kept in her purse. Sometimes she would sit down and pull out a sketchbook, drawing pieces of buildings and writing different mathematical equations around them. He was curious as to what she was doing, but he thought hovering over her to watch would come across as odd so he just stood nearby.

That was how he had spent most of the day, standing or sitting nearby and waiting. It wasn't a bad thing, and Belle seemed to know a considerable amount of history. He liked listening to her talk, especially when they were discussing topics he knew a great deal about. After all, history was nothing more than memories to him. He had lived and experienced them himself.

Eventually they ended up in an open field, now officially outside of the city. She had wanted to visit a winery that was further out, so they had taken a road to the vineyard.

She stopped next to a river, a very old bridge spanning its length. She took some pictures and then looked up, her eyes widening.

"Wow…Those are beautiful…"

Germany followed her line of sight to a massive field of wild flowers along the bank. He thought for a moment before turning to her.

"Would you like to go see them? We've been walking a while, we should take a break."

He wasn't tired, used to long marches and such. Belle, however, looked completely drained from the sheer amount of walking they had done. She nodded and they headed over, finding a good spot among the flowers to sit. Germany reclined back on his arms and watched her sit still only for a moment before plucking one of the colorful flowers. She held it up to her nose and the gears in her head seemed to be working. She picked a few more and began weaving them together.

Germany watched her in silence as she wove a couple dozen flowers together into a circle.

"Have you ever made a flower crown?"

He shook his head. It couldn't be that hard, right?

He sat up and picked a handful of flowers and tried to weave them together like she had, his big fingers snapping the stems accidently.

"Here, let me help."

She placed the crown she had made on his head nonchalantly, moving to sit in front of him and laid her hands on top of his. Her hands were soft for the most part, but he could feel the thick callouses from long hours of sketching and writing on her right hand. She was such a hard worker when it came to her field it seemed, and as she guided his hands in delicately placing the flowers together he felt a foreign emotion that he just couldn't place no matter how seriously he focused.

"Are you ok?"

She was looking up at him, her brow furrowed slightly in concern.

"Huh?"

"You were staring at me with this extremely stern look on your face."

He blushed.

"S-Sorry, I was just focused."

She seemed to accept his answer and went back to directing his hands.

"Where did you learn to make these?"

"My sister and I used to make them. We had to use store bought flowers though because we live in Cincinnati."

Germany assumed that was a city and nodded. He wasn't familiar with most of the locations in the US.

"You have siblings?"

"An older brother and sister, yes. Do you?"

Realizing the stupidity of her question she blushed. He was a Country, did they even consider each other related in any way?

"I have an elder brother, Prussia."

She seemed confused by this, a common occurrence. Most people assumed Prussia died when the country became a part of Germany. She seemed to work it out in her head though, nodding her understanding. He then remembered a question he had meaning to ask her.

"How old are you?"

"Twenty-two."

"And you already have a degree in architecture and in history?"

He was thoroughly impressed. To accomplish that much so young wasn't a common occurrence.

"I started early."

"You must have worked hard."

"It certainly wasn't easy."

They finished the crown and stood. Walking to the river they placed them in the water and watched as the flowers slowly floated down the current.

France strode from the winery, happily carrying a basket in the crook of his arm that held three bottles of wine. The people who worked there always saved him the best batches, knowing he would appreciate them the most.

He reached the old bridge and looked around guiltily to make sure nobody was on the road.

"The anticipation is killing me! Sampling it here should be fine…"

He sat down the basket, pulling a full bottle of luscious red wine from it. He looked around wearily again, not wanting anyone to see him doing something so utterly _vulgar_ as drinking straight from the bottle. He had a reputation to uphold.

Who else would be the smooth, flawless lady's man if he wasn't?

Uncorking the bottle he smelled the contents, the aroma invigorating. He sipped it as he looked out over the river dreamily enjoying the carefully crafted flavor. He turned to eye his favorite flower field, taking a generous drink.

His eyes scanned across the scenery and finally fell on a set of broad shoulders belonging to a person who looked suspiciously like Germany.

Germany wearing a flower crown.

France looked at Germany, then at the bottle, and back again. Slowly he re-corked the bottle and grabbed the basket, walking hastily back to the winery to tell them something had gone horribly wrong in the brewing process.


	5. Never Trust A French Concierge

By the time Germany and Belle had made it back into the city it was late. Belle looked dead tired from their excursion though Germany looked completely unfazed, only slight tiredness tinging his features.

He discovered Belle had an extremely short temper when she was tired.

"What do you mean you gave our rooms up?!"

She pinched the bridge of her nose angrily, their luggage and the counter the only things between her and her first murder victim.

"I'm sorry, but there was a problem. I apologize."

"Well we want new rooms."

The man behind the counter, who looked to be well into his thirties, glanced between the two of them. He smirked at Germany, which completely went over Belle's head in her exhausted state.

"We only have one room left."

"A double?"

"Single."

She leaned her face into her palms in exasperation.

"Don't worry; here is your money back. The room will be free for one night due to our mistake."

Belle reached down to get her bags as the man handed Germany the new keycard and his money back, winking at him. He brushed it off and followed Belle up to their room.

The whole situation was just weird. For starters, Germany had made her let him pay for everything since she met him. He was extremely courteous, but it was weird for her to be so well treated by a man she barely knew. It was an odd change, but not an unpleasant one.

However, she still didn't want to share a room with him. She trusted him but it was just so awkward.

They dropped off their things and took turns getting ready for bed. As expected he insisted she take the bed, settling himself into an armchair in the corner.

"You don't have a blanket?"

"There wasn't an extra. Don't worry about it."

He'd slept under worse conditions. Besides, the chair was comfortable.

"You'll get cold. Germany?"

Belle deadpanned when she realized he had fallen asleep almost instantaneously. She looked at the bed longingly and considered just leaving him be, but he had been too kind to her for her not to show some kind of gratitude.

She walked into the hall, quickly finding a maid finishing up cleaning a room.

"Can I get another blanket?"

She worried momentarily that the woman hadn't understood her, but then realized she was making such a sour face because she didn't want to walk to a linen closet. Seeming to decide the walk wasn't worth it she unlocked the room next to Belle and Germany's, taking the spare from the closet inside.

Belle looked into the empty room in confusion.

"Excuse me, but I was under the impression the hotel was full?"

"No, we have many open rooms."

Realization crossed Belle's mind and she grit her teeth.

Next time she saw that wannabe cupid she was going to strangle him.

After thanking the maid she returned to their room, carefully covering Germany in the new blanket. He must have been sleepier than he let on, not waking up even slightly as she tucked the cloth around his shoulders. With a tired yawn she walked over to the bed and collapsed into it, falling asleep before her head hit the pillow.

The next morning she rolled over half-awake, curling up around the thin arm of the person lying beside her.

Wait a minute…

She screamed and flailed backwards, falling to the ground tangled in a sheet. Germany leapt out of his chair and looked at the bed.

"ITALY!"

Belle finally managed to untangle herself, standing up to look at the man intruding in her bed. He gave her a dull, out of it look as he reached a hand towards her.

"Pastaaaaaaaa~."

"…Italy…Why were you in bed with me?..."

"I thought you were Germany."

She stared at him in disbelief, wondering how he could confuse her petite frame with his muscled one and how he got in there in the first place. She looked at Germany, who had a hand on his face.

"Does he do that often?..."

"Unfortunately…"

She glanced at Italy incredulously. He tilted his head at her.

"Germany is like my brother, we hang out all the time."

Germany let out a defeated sigh and Belle looked at him pityingly, knowing what it was like to have an extremely clingy person in her life.


End file.
